"I'm Running Away" (or at least packing the bag)

    I recently read that a child who plans to run away is in a toxic home environment. Perhaps this is true for most children, but my loving home was certainly an exception. My planning usually began when sent to my room as a punishment for some (well-deserved) miscreant behavior. I crafted my escape route, in addition to my new living quarters. I can't remember the essentials I packed into my blue tapestry suitcase, but I was determined to leave.

    Our neighborhood backed onto a large state park whose boundaries sprawled across the salt marsh that bordered the Tomoka River. That dense hardwood hammock was my destination. While the jungle-like environment appears spooky to most people, my little girl heart knew it as home. I envisioned myself living wild and free in those woods, among the snakes, alligators, and wild boar. 

My childhood Spanish-style home nestled in the hardwood hammock woods.

    It's no wonder the Boxcar Children was my favorite series. I remember the pang of disappointment when they left their independent life to live with their grandfather because while some children play "house", my best friend and I played "our parents were kidnapped in a war". This required none of us to be the boring old adult. Children living on their own...now, that was an adventure.

    As it was, I only needed to step into my backyard for my wilderness exploits. I blazed trails and dug a hole for dinosaur bones so deep our operation was shut down by the adults...no doubt yet another reason to run away from my "harsh" living conditions. 

If you look closely, the far left image was my "hill" (likely a mount dirt dug up from the back creek) - a fortress where I escaped any chance I could.

    Now that I have my own children, I love providing opportunities for their adventures. The older I get, the more important I find getting out into the fresh air and lost in the wonder of exploration.